


A year at Hogwarts

by thegirlwiththerainboweyes



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Almost Drowning, Barricade Day 2018, Brief Coma, Hogwarts AU, I wrote an novella guys, Like if you google the word count for a novella this is within the margins, M/M, This technically counts as a novella, Triwizard Tournament, completly by accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththerainboweyes/pseuds/thegirlwiththerainboweyes
Summary: Les Amis de l’ABC all end up at Hogwarts for a year to watch their classmates compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Adventure, romance, and shenanigans follow.





	A year at Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been an adventure. First conceived in January of 2017 after three hiatuses and an 8 month editing process it is finally ready for publishing. In the time it took me to write this I made a new friend, made them my editor, and started dating them. Thanks for everything, I couldn’t do this without you.  
> I hope you guys love reading this fic as much I’ve loved writing this.

"Attention, attention," Professor Valjean attempted to gain the school’s attention with little result. Friends were too busy recounting holidays and admiring new haircuts or tans to bother with the headmaster’s customary start of year address. Enjolras himself was only paying attention because he had already heard about Combeferre's holiday to America a million times. He did not need to hear it again as it was recounted for the benefit of Grantaire and Joly. However, Valjean eventually managed to quieten his students and deliver his notices.

“Firstly, I would like to welcome our first years to the school and I hope that they will find the school...”, Enjolras blocked out the rest of his sentence. After six years of the same address he figured drowning it out for the seventh and final rendition wouldn’t hurt anyone. He could see the first and second years paying attention, but after the second rendition most of the students had figured out how little they were missing by drowning Valjean out. “House quidditch teams will be having tryouts on the...” He turned to look at his friends. They had all changed over the summer. Combeferre had a tan now instead of his usual handful of freckles across his nose. Courfeyrac and Joly had both grown several centimetres and Joly had begun to fill out the robes that had previously hung off his thin frame like a cloak. Grantaire had changed most of all though. He still looked the same with his unruly black hair and muscular frame from boxing, but he presented himself differently. Grantaire’s parents had taken him abroad as well over the summer, to Italy. He had written back talking about the art they saw, both in museums and in the ancient buildings around him. Grantaire had grown accustomed to the beauty of Paris, but he had been shocked by Rome and Florence. He had come back with more passion and less cynicism, and Enjolras liked him better for it. “And finally,” Valjean began his final notice, “I have a final announcement that I am sure will interest you far more than any of my other announcements.

"I am pleased to announce that for the first time in over two centuries the Triwizard Tournament is to be held at Hogwarts school over the following school year." At that, he was drowned out by the exited babble of students. Many of the older students knew of the tournament from fifth year history of magic classes and knew of both the honour and the danger that came from being a contestant. Those who had heard of the tournament were hurriedly filling in those who hadn’t and speaking over Valjean's attempt to explain the rules. Eventually he told the younger students of the history and rules of the tournament. During that time Enjolras looked at his friends again. Courfeyrac’s eyes were shining at the prospect of a new adventure, a prospect that was reflected in the eyes of many. Combeferre had on his signature frown as he considered what the tournament would mean, people had died before and he knew how reckless his boyfriend could be. Joly looked even more concerned, but still had some of the adventurousness that Enjolras had seen in Courfeyrac’s eyes. Grantaire, like in most situations, was unreadable. But Valjean continued "Due to new safety laws imposed by all three ministries of magic, only students who are over seventeen or those who will turn seventeen before the 30th of October, will be able to apply." The students seemed to be about to dissolve into talk again, so Valjean hurried on quickly, "Those wishing to be shortlisted must complete a two month English course as the tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year. The twenty-five best students will complete their school year at Hogwarts. Those who are ineligible will be able to watch each task from the school. Submission for the English classes will close on Tuesday. There are no other announcements. Enjoy the feast."  
...  
"We're going to England this year!" Courfeyrac burst out before Professor Valjean had even sat down.

"Hogwarts is in Scotland Courf," Combeferre interrupted,

"Not important. This is a once in a lifetime chance. We have to go." As per usual, Joly and Enjolras provided the voice of reason, Courfeyrac and Grantaire the voice of adventure and Combeferre worked as mediator. None of them noticed their dinner growing cold and eventually being replaced by dessert in the midst of their heated discussion. Except Grantaire, who noticed that the juices and butterbeer served with dinner and been replaced with a mulled wine that he quickly poured into his goblet.

 

"This isn't something that we can just 'do later'. This is now or never," Courfeyrac argued,

"People have died in this tournament. We can't just enter into this on a whim," Joly retorted,

"There are more security measures in place than before. They won't let us die, it isn't the 18th century."

"That doesn't mean accidents can't happen. And besides, this is our final year. If we fail our classes because of the tournament we will have to redo the year," Enjolras input,

"But imagine what a year abroad will do for your resume," At that, conversation ceased and all eyes turned to Grantaire, who, for the most part had allowed Courfeyrac to do the arguing.

"Explain," was all Enjolras said, neither accepting nor rejecting his argument.

"Well, think about it. If you are chosen to represent the school it means you are good enough to. That's something employers notice. And imagine if you're chosen to compete. Only three people in the world will be able to claim Triwizard competitor and only one can claim Triwizard champion. Imagine being able to add that to your resume before applying. To even be chosen and definitely to win requires exceptional skill and problem solving; that could seriously work in your favour. Might even get you into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

They all considered this for a second before Enjolras spoke, "You make a convincing argument."

It was a moment before this seemed to sink in with Grantaire and another before he realised what it meant. "You mean to say," he said in a slow voice, as though unsure of the end of his sentence, "that you agree with me?"

"Yes,"

"Have we agreed on anything since 1st year?"

"Aside from who we want to be friends with and that Droobles is better than Bertie Botts, I don't think so."

"Had I convinced you of either of those?"

"No, both were happy accidents."

"Did you hear that?" This was not directed at Enjolras but rather at their assembled friends, "I have convinced Enjolras of something. I have done the impossible." Combeferre smiled behind his napkin, what Grantaire couldn’t see was that he did convince Enjolras of things, things he or Courfeyrac or Joly could not. For some reason, Enjolras had a soft spot for Grantaire.

...

That is how they found themselves two months later pacing up and down outside Professor Thènandier’s office muttering last minute tips amongst themselves. ‘Don't forget to pronounce the final letter,’ ‘Remember to pronounce the 'h',’ Combeferre and Courfeyrac had already gone in and Grantaire was starting to panic. He couldn't remember how to conjugate 'to go'.

"I go, you go, he/she goes, we go, they, they, they what?" He was going to fail. His friends were going to go to Britain and have an amazing year while he was going to be stuck here, alone. All because he had wanted an excuse to be one of the only people Enjolras could speak fluently to, as though that would somehow increase his chances of making Enjolras notice him. Now he couldn’t even pretend he had a chance and Enjolras was going to go to Britain and become school champion and he was going to be back at Beauxbatons, alone.

"Go," Enjolras' voice startled him out of his panic,

"Huh?"

"They go. It's only he/she where you need to change it."

"Oh, thanks"

"I'm going in now but, good luck, for your turn,"

"Oh, thanks, uh, you too." Grantaire stammered out as Enjolras walked into Valjean’s office.

...

"And the final shortlisted student... Renèe Caron. Those who have been called, please wait behind to receive your permission slips to mail to your parents," Grantaire was alone as he left the hall. All of his friends had been selected. They would be going to Scotland and meeting new people and he would be here, alone, in what was supposed to be their last year together before they separated. They had had so many plans. He and Courfeyrac were finally going to steal Professor Thenardier's hat, he was going to draw red spots on Joly's face and see how many diseases he diagnosed himself with before Enjolras or Combeferre showed him it was just ink, he had already bought Enjolras' Christmas gift. None of that mattered though. It was not going to happen.

By the time they caught up with him he had suppressed his emotions. If he was not going to spend the year with them then he would at least not ruin their last week together by being his usual moody self. "You alright 'Taire?" Joly asked,

"Yeah," he responded, perhaps a little more enthusiastic than he would have normally been but none of his friends seemed to notice. "I'm fine. You guys deserve this."

...

"Grantaire, please stay after class," was all Grantaire got from Professor Javert before they began their transfiguration lesson. He didn’t really need transfiguration for his chosen career, but it was the only class all of his friends took, and that made it worth it. Or did. After Saturday it would just be a useless class. After bidding his friends goodbye and promising to be in the library after charms he waited for the room to empty and for Javert to begin. "It appears," Javert began stiffly after the class had filled out of the room "that Pierre Dubois cheated on his final English examination. As you were ranked twenty-sixth you have been given his position. Your parents have already signed your permission form and I would advise you to pack quickly as you only have two days. That is all, you are dismissed," At any other time he would have made some snide comment to himself about the pole lodged up either Javert's back or his ass at the uptight dismissal. However, he was honestly too happy to care. He was going to Hogwarts. He was going to spend his last year at school with his friends. He barely concentrated through charms and made his way to the dorm straight after to pack.

...

He was halfway through deciding whether or not to pack an extra scarf (could Britain really be THAT cold?) when his friends had burst into his dorm. "Okay, before you get mad," he had said quickly, seeing the murderous look in Joly's eyes that said 'you have unnecessarily triggered my hypochondria and I am pissed off about it' "I have a perfectly good excuse this time," seeing Courfeyrac's grin he continued "One that does not involve Chizpurfle, I swear. Okay, so, I'm going to Hogwarts." It took awhile to explain and he had to stop occasionally to avoid curses lobbed by Joly, but by the end of the night he and his friends were celebrating with a chilled chest of butterbeers.

Even Enjolras smiled at him and told him that he was glad that Grantaire was coming. “It wouldn't be the same without you R.” It may be a good year after all.

...

As it turned out, Britain WAS that cold. Their light summer robes were nowhere near enough protection against the Scottish Autumn and all of them were shivering. He was seriously worried that Enjolras' lips would turn blue in a minute; he should probably stop thinking about Enjolras' lips. They all nearly gave an audible sigh of relief when Professor Valjean said that they would go inside to warm up instead of wait for the Durmstrang students to arrive. Following Enjolras they sat at one of the long tables, not having been told where to sit. After Dumbledore's address the Hogwarts students began eating, so they followed their lead.

...

Not much 'international magical cooperation' happened until a boy with a yellow tie passing their table managed to trip over his own feet and grabbed onto Joly in a desperate attempt to right himself, only succeeding in pulling Joly off of the bench onto the floor with him. He nearly pulled them both over twice more as he tried to help Joly up before he had fully regained his balance. After they were both standing the boy started talking in English faster than Joly could comprehend. He only stopped his tirade when another boy, this one dressed in a blue tie with long ginger hair in a braid, muttered a few words to the first boy in English before addressing the group in perfect French.

"I apologise for my friend’s clumsiness. He is always getting himself into trouble and in his haste to apologise forgot that you don't speak rapid fire English."

The boy with the yellow tie then spoke to Joly in much slower and better enunciated English. "Can I make it up to you, er?"

"Joly," Joly supplied. At this the both boys started laughing. Noticing their confusion, the one in yellow started talking in fast English again, trying to explain what was funny but none of them caught on so the one in blue filled in the blanks,

"Jolly is an English word for happy or joyous," sensing Joly's embarrassment he continued "I'm Jean 'Jehan' Prouvaire and this is Laigle but we call him Bossuet," Joly was still trying to make sense of the pun on his name so Courfeyrac continued for him,

"I'm Courfeyrac, this is Combeferre, Enjolras, and Grantaire. You've already met Joly. We do have first names but we generally don't use them. Most of us were named after our parents, except Grantaire. He’s just doing it so he’s not the only one going by an ordinary name."

Before either group could get into further discussions Professor Dumbledore called for quiet and Jehan pulled Bossuet down next to him. None of them needed to look at Joly to know that he was bright red because Bossuet was pressed uncomfortably into his side. After only five minutes and a few bruises he clearly had it bad for the English boy. This year could prove very interesting.

...

They saw Jehan and Bossuet the next day in the entrance hall as they submitted their names with some other students. Catching Bossuet's gaze Joly made his way over and the rest of them followed. They managed to catch the last remnants of what Bossuet was saying to a redhead with a yellow tie, "...one I told you about Marius." Marius happened to be a sixth year Hufflepuff who was lucky enough to be seventeen in time for the tournament. Before they were able to catch more than that, another voice called out "Marius," from somewhere across the hall. A tall brunette girl with a green tie came hurrying up to them, followed by a smaller blond boy with a red tie and four Durmstrang students.

"These were the ones I was telling you about. Who are you?"

Confused multilingual introductions were made and they all met Éponine, the brunette who had called out and her younger brother Gavroche from Hogwarts. They also met Cosette, Musichetta, Bahorel, and Feuilly from Durmstrang, the final school in the tournament. After two minutes with Éponine and Bahorel, Grantaire could tell that he would enjoy this year.

...

"Calm down Courf, you'll give yourself an aneurysm,"

"But they're taking forever!!"

"You have the maturity and patience of a five year old,"

"Thank you,"

"Shut up both of you. It's starting," Enjolras interrupted. The whole hall had dissolved into silence as Dumbledore stood up and approached the goblet. Then, the fire changed colour and expelled a single piece of paper. Dumbledore unfolded it and read the name inside.

"The Durmstrang champion, is Elisabet Hansson," At this a tall curvy girl with long red hair stood up from Éponine’s table to the applause of her schoolmates. The flames changed colour again as another piece of paper; Dumbledore unfolded the second piece of paper and read out the name on it. "The Beauxbatons champion, is Julien Enjolras."

Grantaire had always known it would be Enjolras. Who else could it be? Who among them was as intelligent and practical and passionate and... this was quickly starting to delve into an admiration session. He did not know Hogwarts' position on Legilimency and did not want to find it out.

Enjolras walked to the chamber at the back of the hall with the same easy grace that he did everything with. If he was nervous, then Grantaire couldn’t tell. He was Beauxbatons champion and Grantaire was perfectly content to be his loudest supporter. Please let Legilimency be banned at Hogwarts.

...

Enjolras was terrified. He had prepared for this outcome but was still overwhelmed that he had been chosen. He felt his legs carry him to the back chamber of their own accord. He was only removed from his reverie when Elisabet formally introduced herself. "Call me Lizbet,"

"Call me Enjolras." They had barely become acquainted when the Hogwarts champion entered. He was tall with brown hair and had a smile like Courfeyrac; wide and welcoming and it made everyone want to be his friend.

"Adrian O'Donnell, but no one except my parents and teachers call me that. Most people just call me Plimpy," he introduced.

"Plimpy? As in the small freshwater fish?"

"Long story. Long, embarrassing, story,"

Before finding out why Adrian was better known as 'Plimpy' the chamber door opened a fourth time and the headmasters entered as well. Dumbledore did not waste time with pleasantries and instead delved straight into an explanation of the first task. "The first task is designed to test your daring so you will only find out what it is on the day. All you are permitted to bring to the task are your wands and your wits. The task will be on the 21st of November at ten o'clock. I wish you all the best," and with that they were dismissed.

The hall had not yet emptied by the time they emerged but none of them felt like returning to their tables. They didn’t speak until they turned to go their seperate ways in the entrance hall. "I suppose we'll all be seeing a lot of each other," Lizbet started tentatively,

"Suppose so," was the response.

"Well, see you later?"

"I guess," None of them knew how to act. What was the protocol for entering into a deadly contest against two others? Were they supposed to be friends? At each other's throats? They didn’t know.

...

Enjolras did not talk to either Lizbet or 'Plimpy' again until two weeks later when his free period was interrupted by a breathless Gavroche. He had been planning on spending that time finishing his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay on the proper control of fiend fire but was distracted by the antics of his new friends.

Combeferre, Joly and Jehan had Herbology and Cosette had Muggle Studies but everyone else was in the library not really studying. Grantaire, Musichetta and Bahorel were engaged in a deep discussion about popular Quidditch teams in different countries as Bahorel tried to convince Musichetta that the 'Grodzisk Goblins' were better than the 'Vratsa Vultures'. "What you don't understand is that while Wronski was one good player the Goblins chasers were three good players to give us the long-goal,"

"But the Wronski feint has won more games than the long-goal ever will,"

"That's because it's a seekers move, those always win more games than chasers moves. It's an unfair comparison."

Feuilly meanwhile was trying to quietly teach Bossuet and Marius Swedish, Musichetta and Cosette’s native language. Feuilly's native language was actually Polish but "the Polish wizarding school sucks, so I learned Swedish and went to Durmstrang." Both were making well-meaning but pitiful attempts to talk to their respective interests in their native languages and utterly failing. Courfeyrac was also giving Bossuet French lessons but was currently more preoccupied by the neglected essay on magically reinforced poisons that was due next lesson. Éponine had declared the Swedish lessons "sickeningly sweet" and had stormed off to "get my cauldron. I have potions next," despite the fact that the next period did not start for another half hour. She and Grantaire had become close friends through 'common experiences' that Grantaire had not elaborated on. Éponine had told Grantaire, who had told Enjolras, that she’d had a crush on Marius since third year.

Enjolras was just starting the diagram on correct wand movements for the control of fiend fire when Gavroche burst into the library with his usual bravado, pointedly ignoring the librarians disapproving glare.

"Before you all ask," he began when he reached their table,"My teacher is fully aware of where I am and what I am doing. I have in no way deceived, tricked or lied to them this time and am not in class on their orders,"

"Were you sent out of class for unruly behaviour?" Courfeyrac asked fondly, still not looking up from his essay. Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Bahorel had all taken a shine to Gavroche, with Bahorel claiming, "He's like a twelve year old me," and promptly clapping a hand over Feuilly's mouth to stop him telling any stories about him as a twelve year old.

"Not this time," Gavroche responded, "I'm actually here for Enjolras. All of the champions have to go upstairs,"

"What for?"

"Dunno. But it means I get out of class so it mustn't be too bad."

...

He was greeted in an unused classroom by the judges, a reporter from the Daily Prophet (he thought that was what the lady said, it was hard to tell from her fast paced speech,) and Lizbet. But she looked different. In the space of time since he had last seen her she had changed, her hair was no longer red, it was a dark shade of blonde.

"I did have red hair during the selection. I've just changed it," she said when she saw him looking.  
"My best subject is Transfiguration and I'm very good at it. I change my hair colour magically whenever I feel like a change. I spent most of the early school year with black hair,"

"What's your natural colour?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," At that moment a red faced 'Plimpy' had burst into the room, having run all of the way from the greenhouses and the Weighing of the Wands began. The judge seemed a bit biased towards Plimpy's wand, "one of mine I believe," but passed all of their wands without incident.

...

The 21st of November came around sooner than anyone would have liked. Grantaire had stopped listening to the rumours about what the task would be after he talked to a fifth year who was convinced that the champions would have to fight a Manticore and a third year who swore that she had heard a teacher say that the champions would have to drink Veritaserum and tell everyone their secrets to test their bravery. He almost missed breakfast because he had overslept after spending all night worrying on Enjolras’ behalf. Enjolras had fallen asleep at ten pm, same as every other night, not that Grantaire knew that. But even Enjolras had succumbed to nerves by breakfast and was pushing his scrambled eggs around instead of eating them. Grantaire was about to join in the chorus of ‘good luck’s’ from their friends when Professor Valjean walked over and signalled that it was time to go down. Enjolras didn’t even hear Grantaire wish him luck as he followed Valjean.

...

Neither of the other champions were looking too good either when Enjolras entered the tent. Lizbet was pacing along the length of the tent. She had changed her hair again to mahogany brown. Plimpy was staring ahead glassy eyed and did not seem to be processing what he saw. Not feeling comfortable talking Enjolras simply sat down and began tapping his knee with his wand, a bad habit that Grantaire liked to tease him for after he gave Professor Javert a black eye before a Transfiguration exam with a wayward jinx. They were all startled from their reveries by Mr Bagman explaining the task and holding out a bad of whatever they would face.

"Ladies first" was all he said before extending the bag to Lizbet. She put her hand in apprehensively and drew out... a dragon. It was a perfect scale model of a Chinese Fireball with a number two around its neck. Dragons, their task was dragons. What did he know about dragons? The weakest point was the eyes. A conjunctivitis curse? But that could backfire if it lashed out in pain. A distraction was probably the safest option but what? Nothing to do with Jinxes or Curses, that could cause to dragon to fire on the audience. Plimpy reached in second and drew out a Hungarian Horntail with a number three around its neck. That meant he would be first. Transfiguration maybe? But that could still be unpredictable if he made a living creature. A charm would be the safest option. What did he know about charms? And then the plan came together. The bag was with him now, a Swedish Short-Snout. Rather territorial. This would work.

...

Grantaire could feel his heart beating against his ribs as Enjolras walked into the arena. None of his friends seemed to be taking it well either. Courfeyrac was biting his fingernails while Combeferre periodically slapped his hand to make him stop, then turned back to the arena in time for Courfeyrac to bring his fingers to his mouth again. Musichetta had Bossuet's hand in her right and Joly's in her left and seemed to be crushing them if the looks on the boy’s faces were anything to go by. Marius and Cosette were both peering through their fingers as though afraid that something would go wrong. Grantaire was rather angry at them for doing that but he did not understand why. Éponine, Gavroche, Bahorel and Feuilly were watching eagerly, anticipating something amazing. Grantaire felt he may have oversold Enjolras to them. Jehan was systematically shredding a sheet from the morning’s paper, and Grantaire himself was just fidgeting and waiting. For something to go wrong. For something to go right. For anything really.

Even when he was walking into an arena to fight a dragon, Enjolras was still beautiful. The sun caught in his blond hair making it shine like gold and he still carried himself with absolute certainty and confidence. Please, please, on all that is holy let Legilimency be forbidden here.

Enjolras walked calmly into the arena until the dragon sprayed fire at him through its nostrils and forced him to jump and twist out of the way. At that, Combeferre also began biting his fingernails, Marius closed his fingers, Jehan ripped the paper in half and both Joly and Bossuet let of small squeals as Musichetta gripped even tighter. Enjolras was crouching behind a rock now and was muttering a spell aloud. Almost immediately, thick grey smoke issued from his wand tip. As the astounded audience and dragon watched, the smoke changed shape and colour, becoming a perfect replica of another dragon. A Ukrainian Ironbelly maybe. Enjolras then waved his wand again and fire issued from it, but from where the dragon was standing it must have looked like the Ironbelly had breathed it. The Shortsnout forgot all about Enjolras as it turned on the smoke Ironbelly. It began shrieking and blowing fire in an attempt to intimidate the Ironbelly but to no avail. As it did this, Enjolras backed towards the Shortsnout’s eggs, never taking his eyes off of the two dragons. The Shortsnout took that moment to breathe fire directly on the Ironbelly, dispersing the coloured smoke, but it was too late, Enjolras was holding the golden egg aloft. He had done it. He was alright. Nearly fifty trained wizards stunned the Shortsnout and pulled it away to bring in the Chinese Fireball, ready for the next champion.

...

They were not allowed to see Enjolras until after Elisabet and Adrian had faced their dragons. Call him biased, but Elisabet's transfiguration of a rock into a dog as a distraction and conjunctivitis curse and Adrian's disillusionment charm were not nearly as spectacular as Enjolras' solution. The judges agreed with him too, forty-five points out of fifty. Professor Valjean, Mr Crouch and Professor Dumbledore had given him nine, Mr Bagman had given him a ten and Professor Karkaroff had given him an eight. Adrian came second on forty-three and Elisabet was in third with thirty-five points after her conjunctivitis curse caused the dragon to set part of the stands on fire.

...

He waited until they were going to bed to congratulate Enjolras for the task. Beforehand, his congratulations were drowned out by their friends. Combeferre and Courfeyrac had both pulled him into bruising hugs, despite Enjolras' protests that they were going to break his ribs. Joly had congratulated Enjolras by telling him that if he ever scared them like that again Joly would turn him into a stress ball and give him to Musichetta. After the initial congratulations, Marius had brought a minor feast from the kitchens and Gavroche showed them a corner of the castle that had not been used in a while and they all forced Enjolras to celebrate with them, despite his protests that "I've only got three months to figure this out," gesturing to the egg still tucked under his arm.

"Precisely, three months. You can take off two hours to enjoy the best Hogwarts has to offer."

"Really, that was fantastic magic Enjolras," he said as he shrugged off his robes and pulled on his pyjamas.

"It was nothing. Just a basic charm,"

"Basic charm? You couldn't make me do that under the imperius curse. You were fantastic," At that he decided that it was in his best interests to say goodnight and leave it there.

...

"Enjolras please close that thing, you're going to make me prematurely deaf,"

"I can't, I have to figure out what it means. I think I'm close,"

"The only thing you are close to is permanent hearing damage," Courfeyrac and Enjolras' argument was cut short when Éponine forcibly shut the egg and shoved it in her bag.

"You can have it back when I complete my potions homework, and don't bother attempting to steal it magically or non-magically. I have ten different jinxes on my bag that put Michael Stephens in the hospital wing for a week after he tried to borrow a quill without asking," Hearing that the shrieking had stopped, a dark haired girl stuck her head around the corner.

"Now that you have finally shut that infernal egg up," Lizbet began, "I need to talk to you, in private. Don't look at me like that," she added, seeing Enjolras' confused expression, "I don't want to talk about the tournament. I want to talk about something else,"

"Uh alright."

...

Once they were on their own in a different disused classroom to the one that Enjolras was studying in, Lizbet got straight to the point. "Do you have a date to the Yule Ball?"

"What?" he asked, confused,

"Do you have a date to the Yule Ball?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Just answer the question,"

"No,”

“No you don’t have a date or not you won’t answer my question?”

“No, I don't have a date,"

She smiled and continued "Do you have anyone you want to take?"

Did he? Most of his friends had partners. Courfeyrac and Combeferre were going together, that was just assumed but Courfeyrac was putting together an elaborate spectacle to ask him anyway. "I want to top the way I asked him out. Does anyone know where I can find a swarm of live fairies?" Marius had blushed his way through asking Cosette to go with him in Swedish, and after replying that while she did not want to go to the packing with him, she would love to go to the ball with him, they were now working through the awkward first steps of what Courfeyrac and Jehan predicted would be a beautiful relationship. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were going together and were in the midst of sorting out robe colours because otherwise they ran the risk of looking like a traffic light. Musichetta wanted to wear red, a few shades brighter than her school robes, Bossuet wanted to wear yellow because he had wanted his dress robes to be the same colour as his house robes, and Joly had a set of green dress robes that he had been waiting to wear since fifth year but had never had a reason to. None of them were inclined to budge. Bahorel and Feuilly were refusing to find dates so that they had no obligation to dance with one particular girl and instead could dance with whoever took their fancy. Éponine had just asked Grantaire a week after the ball was announced, after Marius had asked Cosette to go with him, "Wanna go together so neither of us have to go alone?" The only people left without dates were him and Jehan.

Even Gavroche had found a date, or rather, a date had found him. A few days previous, he had been chatting with Bahorel about boxing techniques when another Gryffindor second year with brown hair and olive skin had walked up to him and blurted out "Hi Gavroche, I don't know if you know me, my name's Molly. I sit behind you in Charms and next to you in Transfiguration and we usually share a bench in Herbology and we used to share a cauldron in potions after you melted yours and before you replaced it. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go to the ball with me. Or not, it's all good either way I guess," she had nearly run away before Gavroche, with encouragement from Bahorel, had responded, "Uh, sure. That sounds good."

"Not really." At this Lizbet beamed,

"Fantastic, not that you have no one to go with but I was just wondering if you wanted to maybe go with me?" He had not been prepared for that. Lizbet was fairly good looking and clearly intelligent but he had never considered going out with her.

"Uh, I'm not sure," he started, "I mean, you're great and all but, I'm not really interested in..." but at that she broke him off

"Oh my god I'm sorry, I didn't mean that way. I mean, like you said, you're great and all, but I'm gay,"

"Then why are you asking me?" He asked, confused.

"How much time have you got?"

"Enough."

"Alright,” she began tiredly, “Professor Karkaroff is rather..."

"Traditional?"

"I was going to say homophobic but yeah, that. He's told out entire year level that if any of us 'Disgrace the good name of Durmstrang Institute with our disgusting behaviour' then we will be unable to complete our final exams and be forced to redo seventh year. My girlfriend, Emilia, and I have decided that it's not worth it. We need to graduate and neither of us want to put that in danger for just one night. If it was anything else we might, just to annoy Karkaroff but not this. But I don't want to take someone who actually wants to go with me. So, if you're not going with anyone, want to go with me?"

"Sure. I'd love to, as friends" Lizbet smiled

"As friends, and if possible, can you ask your friends if any of them would want to take Emilia?"

"I can ask, I can't guarantee any of them will."

"Wait,” she called out as she walked away, “one last thing,"

"Yeah?"

"I know you haven't figured out your egg yet and you don't want a hint, but I figured mine out where I get all of my best ideas," curious, Enjolras responded

"Where is that?"

"The bath. Make of that what you will."

When he came back, Enjolras was frowning and mouthing to himself. "Informative talk?" Grantaire asked teasingly. Enjolras just shrugged and sat back down and stared at his egg, which had been put back on the table after Éponine had finished her essay and kept mouthing the same phrase over and over. Grantaire could swear he was mouthing 'In the bath' but that was ridiculous. He was probably misreading. What did that say about his subconscious?

Both Enjolras and Grantaire were startled from their separate reveries by an outburst from Courfeyrac, "What was that about Enjolras?" He demanded,

"Oh, nothing much, Enjolras responded, “She just asked me to go with her to the Ball. And gave me a really confusing tip about the egg."

Grantaire felt his stomach fall away at that. Of course he knew that Enjolras would find a date. He was a champion, he had to. But Grantaire assumed he would take one of the girls from their school. Someone he was familiar with but had never shown interest in and had never shown him interest in return. He was not supposed to be taking a beautiful foreign girl with top marks and beautiful eyes. But, why would he not want to take Lizbet, she was everything Grantaire was not. She was smart and hard working. She was beautiful and passionate and a school champion. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Two perfect students, two hardworking, passionate people. It was a perfect match. Both Champions, both top of every class, both utterly gorgeous. It was perfect.

Grantaire did not hear the rest of Enjolras and Courfeyrac's conversation, he could not hear anything over the pounding in his ears. He could not even hear his own words as he murmured "left my homework at the carriage, see you at dinner," and left the classroom abruptly.

He should be proud of himself, he supposed. He made it all the way to the carriage and into his bed before he began crying. He had thought he was prepared. He had thought he had been prepared for Enjolras to find a beautiful girlfriend since he realised that his crush was unrequited. So why did it hurt so much?

He felt more than heard Éponine enter the carriage and sit down on his bed. The ringing in his ears had not yet ceased. She did nothing for a second, before wrapping her arms around him. Éponine did not hug. She smiled, she even laughed sometimes. She hit you on the back or on the arm. If you were sad she let Jehan fix it. He was good at emotions. The only time she had relented to be hugged was when Grantaire had found her in a similar situation when Marius asked Cosette to the ball. So if Éponine was hugging him, he must look pretty bad.

"What happened after I left?" He asked seconds? Minutes? Hours? Later.

"Nothing, he just stared at the egg, opened it a few times then stormed off after he got annoyed with Courf's interrogation. I have no idea what is going on between them," she said, answering the question he asked and the question he wanted to ask in one. "Now," she said in an authoritative tone "I have heard it from a little bird named Joyful that your favourite comfort food is chocolate eclairs. I happen to have an entire plate with me to replace dinner since I figure you don't want to enter the Great Hall at the moment,"

"You're the best Éponine,"

"Tell me something I don't know."

...

Enjolras continued to remain engrossed in the egg and had no time to waste talking about the Ball. This meant that by the time that eight o'clock on December 25th came around the only additional information any of them had gathered was that Enjolras had promised to ask around for a date for a girlfriend of Lizbet’s. Emilia, Grantaire thought her name was; she was going with Jehan. Grantaire and Éponine had been doing their own detective work to find out more about Lizbet, looking for reasons to hate her more than they did. According to Cosette, who knew everything about everyone at Durmstrang, she was "a lovely girl and I will not help you find reasons to hate her, R. I know it's hard to have a crush on someone who doesn't like you back," at that, Grantaire could feel Éponine roll her eyes, "but this is not the answer."

Musichetta was far more accomodating but had no bad words to say about Lizbet either. "She's top of half the classes, warm, friendly, I'm sorry R but the worst thing that I can say about her is that she is rather private about her personal life. She only really talks about anything of importance with her closest friends, and there isn't really anything wrong with that." Bahorel and Feuilly only knew that she was not interested in either of them, they had both tried, and that she was top of Transfiguration and half of the other classes too.

"To conclude," Éponine stated on Christmas Eve as she wrapped her presents, "the worst thing this girl has done aside from ask Enjolras to the Ball, is be a private overachiever,"

"She's perfect for Enjolras," he finished bitterly.

"We could always hate her for being unhateable,"

"You get me."

...

Grantaire had arranged to meet Éponine in the Entrance Hall but they were the only ones in their friendship group to do so. Bossuet had bounded down from the castle, to pick up Joly so they could escort Musichetta from the ship to the hall. Bossuet had conceded to change his yellow robes to a pair that was the same shade of green as Joly’s, meaning that the trio looked like a Christmas tree rather than a set of traffic lights. Courfeyrac and Combeferre were walking up together arm in arm, Combeferre in midnight blue robes and Courfeyrac in jade green after having been narrowly talked out of a set in every colour in the spectrum by Combeferre, who had threatened not to go if he wore "that technicolour monstrosity." Marius, in a spectacular set of light blue robes, and Cosette, in a floaty white set, had been seen making their way from the ship to the castle. Enjolras, who was wearing his signature red, was being rather unfair to Grantaire's heart by first complimenting his bottle green robes and then leaving to meet up with Jehan, who was dressed in navy and gold robes, so they could escort their dates up to the castle. Bahorel and Feuilly were jokingly walking up together arm in arm, both in dark blue robes. Even Gavroche was walking down from the dormitories with Molly. Grantaire had asked Éponine if she wanted an escort from the dormitories, to which she replied bitterly, "Escorting is for your first choice. We are just friends, no romantic crap." To anyone else her words were unnecessary harsh but Grantaire understood. If Éponine stopped brushing aside her pain with bitterness and sarcasm then she would have to face the facts. That the person she loved was in love with someone else. Neither Éponine nor Grantaire was quite ready to that, so they would both keep hiding the best way they knew how.

He was the last of his friends to enter the Entrance Hall aside from Enjolras and Jehan, who were still walking up from the ship. Éponine was wearing purple robes that showed off her shoulders and were drawn in at her waist. Gavroche was fidgeting with the collar of his pale blue robes while Molly was making awkward conversation and fiddling with the skirt of her mauve robes. They were actually rather cute together.

His good mood ended when Jehan and Enjolras walked in with their dates. Both of the girls looked fantastic. Lizbet was wearing pale green robes and had transfigured her hair to a brilliant shade of purple. Jehan's date, Emilia, he heard her say, was wearing black lace and black lipstick. Her hair was dark green. He thought that she was far prettier than Lizbet, maybe because she was on Jehan's arm as opposed to Enjolras'.

...

Enjolras was enjoying himself far more than he thought he would. His friends certainly seemed to be, although Éponine and Grantaire both acted a little put out. He could understand Éponine’s unhappiness at Marius and Cosette's joined hands, but he did not understand Grantaire's underlying unhappiness or his slight frostiness with Lizbet. Grantaire was always the second most social member of their group, behind Courfeyrac. He was one of the first to make friends and only disliked people after talking to them, but he was cold with Lizbet from the moment they were introduced. It was not the fact that she was Durmstrang champion either, as he had quickly became friends with Plimpy, encouraging his blonde date, Helen, to tell them all the story behind the nickname. Apparently, Plimpy had boasted in his fourth year that he was a match for the colony of grindylows that lived in the lake, along with various other creatures. One of his friends had taken him up on this and bet him ten galleons that he could not catch one alive. He agreed and dived in headfirst. After half an hour and a lot of splashing he came up and demanded ten galleons, only to realise that he had not caught a grindylow with his bare hands, but rather a very confused plimpy.

...

Before Grantaire, Lizbet already forgotten, could retaliate with a story about Enjolras, one of the Hogwarts teachers called them into the hall for dinner. He remembered Lizbet very quickly however, when she and Enjolras walked arm in arm to the head table, both smiling and laughing, looking more relaxed than he had seen either of them in weeks. They both took their places and immediately began an animated conversation with Professor Valjean, both gesturing and smiling wildly. They really were perfect for each other. Next to him, Éponine made an almost inaudible sound of disgust, vocalising his feelings.

...

Too soon, it was time to dance. That would have been fine, except Enjolras had been too occupied with his egg to bother learning even a few simple ones, and now he was going to embarrass himself and Lizbet in front of all three schools. Sensing his feelings, Lizbet nudged him gently, "Just let me lead,"

"Thank you,"

"No problem,"

They were not good. Neither of them could move as gracefully as Plimpy and Helen but they were good enough that no one had laughed and by the middle of the song almost everyone had started dancing, no one cared what they were doing. Courfeyrac was leading Combeferre in an erratic dance that terrified bystanders, who jumped out of the way to avoid getting their feet crushed. Jehan and Emilia were dancing close by, Lizbet and Emilia making eye contact over their date’s shoulders. Marius and Cosette had been practising and were both extremely elegant. Musichetta and Joly were both guiding Bossuet in an awkward dance that was somewhere between a waltz and ring around the rosie. Bahorel had talked a Slytherin fifth year into a sort of jig while Feuilly waltzed a Hufflepuff seventh year nearby. Gavroche and Molly were both adorable and painfully awkward. They were standing in hold position and slowly rotating, both stiff as boards and staring at their feet. Éponine had even talked Grantaire into dancing a wild sort of tango with her. He was smiling. He had not seen Grantaire smile for a few weeks, too engrossed in his egg to remember human interactions. And he only seemed to catch Grantaire when he was in a bad mood. He seemed to be having more than usual at the moment.

...

Most of the ball had gone spectacularly. After Éponine had convinced him to dance with her and ignore Enjolras and his partner, he had begun having a wonderful time. He managed to dance with all of his friends, some better than others. He and Courfeyrac had “commanded fear and respect with their flawless dancing”, his toes, however, would never forgive him for dancing with Bossuet and Bahorel in rapid succession. The only person he had not danced with was Enjolras. He was not thinking about Enjolras. Grantaire’s unrequited crush was not going to spoil his and everyone else’s good night. Ignoring Enjolras became harder, however, when he walked over to where they were all taking breaks and grabbing drinks. He was walking directly towards Grantaire.

"I think you're the only person left that I haven't danced with,"

"You haven't danced with me yet," Bahorel interrupted.

"I just finished dancing with Bossuet," Enjolras replied "Give my toes a break," and before Bahorel had time to respond he had grabbed Grantaire's wrist and had pulled him onto the dance floor.

It was not like in the stories, where a slow song came on the moment they started dancing and they got a romantic slow dance. They stepped on at the end of a song yes, but the following song was equally as upbeat. It also was not like a story where the two lovers dance a slow dance out of time with the song because they are the only things that truly exist. They danced like all of the others. They were fast, energetic, not passionate, just doing what everyone else was. Superficially, it was no different to dancing with Éponine, and yet, despite the normalcy of the dance, Grantaire was still sad when it ended.

At that moment, Lizbet came up and faux pouted that she thought Enjolras was her partner, at which Enjolras asked her "Having fun with Emilia?" They complemented each other well, a perfect pair. Grantaire took this as a cue to leave. He stole out the door and onto the front lawn. He did not feel like talking to anyone for awhile.

...

"Grantaire?" A voice interrupted his self-pitying reveries an indeterminate amount of time later. "R?" The voice tried again. It was Enjolras.

"Grantaire?" This was a new voice, a higher, feminine voice. It was Lizbet. They had not seen him where he was sitting, half obscured by one of the statues decorating the lawn. Thank god for Hogwarts and its non-ice sculptures, he thought.

"I suppose he isn't here either," they had stopped on the lawn, not too far from his hideout. "I'm sorry, I thought you two would like each other. Should we head back inside?"

"Yeah, I suppose. But first, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure. About what?" They were just on the other side of the statue now. If either of them turned their heads they would see him. But they were too caught up in each other to notice him.

"I just wanted to thank you for the great night. When I asked you I just wanted someone who didn't have a date. Anyone really. But I'm really glad that I went with you in particular. I had a really great night." She continued but they had moved away slightly so Grantaire couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Before either of them said anything else, a bell rang out from the hall. "I think that that means the ball is nearly over. We should head inside if we want that last dance," Grantaire heard Lizbet say quietly. By the time Grantaire had ducked out from under the statue, they had both retreated indoors. Figuring that he did not need to see Enjolras and his new girlfriend slow dancing and staring into each other's eyes, he retreated to the carriage. When the others came in he pretended to already be asleep.

By the next morning Enjolras' attention was back on the egg and there was no need to discuss the ball. And if Éponine was rather colder to Lizbet on Grantaire's behalf when they had previously been on friendly terms, only he knew.

...

"I need a distraction," Enjolras' voice rang through their dorm. It was the first of January and Enjolras had gotten no further with the egg. It was 11pm and he could not be bothered to continue thinking about it. Since the only other person awake was Grantaire, he turned to him and asked to read his textbook aloud as a distraction. Grantaire, for his part, took the odd request in his stride.

"Self-selecting beasts," he began, "'Most magical creatures classified as beasts are considered thus due to their inability, either through lack of intellect or vicious nature, to work with the magical community and abide by and shape their laws. Two species of beast, however, are not considered beings due to an expression of interest by the majority of the species to be classified as beasts so that they may be allowed continued sovereignty from the wizarding world. These two species are Centaurs and Merpeople,' Are you actually interested in this?"

"Yes, keep going" Enjolras said tiredly, already beginning to fall asleep with the riddle removed from his mind for a moment.

"Alright.'Merpeople exist throughout the world and have been observed as having varied appearances based on habitat. Those in warmer climates like the Mediterranean are observed as having a classically beautiful appearance. It is believed that this is where Muggle ideas on Merfolk comes from. Merfolk living in colder climates like the selkies of Scotland are far less attractive. Below the surface of water, merspeak reflects the local human dialect, however, above water, all Merpeople share a common language, Mermish. Mermish is a language that sounds to a human ear to be a high-pitched screeching or screaming,'"

"What?" He asked, an idea beginning to prickle at the back of his brain,

"A high-pitched screeching or screaming? Enjolras?" As at that Enjolras had grabbed his egg and run out of the room.

When Grantaire found him he had filled up one of the basins in the bathroom and had stuck both his head and his egg under the water, not caring about the water dampening the collar of his pyjamas. At that moment Enjolras pulled his head out from under the water, his damp hair spraying water over the walls, the mirrors and Grantaire but the wild smile on Enjolras' face was worth it.

"Mermish R, the egg is in Mermish. It's the same poem over and over. I've solved it. But now I need to solve the poem. I need to..." his shout, however, had woken Combeferre and Joly.

"You need," Joly interrupted, "to sleep. I understand that you are exited but the egg will be there in the morning. And before you say anything," he added, seeing the look in Enjolras' eyes meaning that he was going to argue, "you can either do this willingly, or I can make Courf and Ferre hold you down while I force feed you a sleeping draught. It's up to you,"

"Fine," even Enjolras knew not to argue with Joly. "Give me two minutes to dry my hair."

...

"Okay, who is on Enjolras duty today?" Courfeyrac asked over his potions homework,

"I think that's me,"

"Alright Jehan. Good Luck."

It had been two weeks since Enjolras had figured out the egg but was no closer 'solving the riddle', whatever that meant. He would keep muttering to himself as he poured over books about merpeople and charms and transfiguration. He kept muttering to himself about “an hour. I need to stay under for an hour.” They had found him fast asleep in the library more than once using an ancient book as a pillow. After the fourth time in as many days they had implemented a system so that there was someone to force Enjolras to eat/sleep/relax when he clearly needed to but was too stubborn to admit it.

...

"And this is probably the crowning jewel of my collection, something that has taken me years of work to cultivate, Gillyweed," Enjolras personally did not seen what was so remarkable about the slimy green plant, but Jehan was remarkably proud of it and really wanted to talk about it without lecturing so he asked,

"What does it do?" Without really caring about the answer. If his indifference bled through, Jehan didn’t notice,

"It allows someone to grow gills and webbed hands and feet when consumed. This particular strain is actually native to the Mediterranean and so it is actually very hard to reproduce in Scottish conditions..." but the rest of his sentence was lost on Enjolras. This Gillyweed could be the answer. All he needed was some time. And some more books.

...

The morning of the task was freezing and all of them shook slightly at the lake’s edge. All of them except Enjolras that was. He was dressed in only a blue tank top and shorts but he did not seem to feel the cold. The rest of them were dressed more reasonably in thick jumpers and scarfs.

They had all settled into some makeshift stands that had an excellent view of both the surface or the lake and of the enchanted screens that would show them what was going on inside the lake; all of them, except Jehan and Combeferre.

They had seen Jehan at breakfast and he had promised to meet them at the lake after he had finished watering his plants. But they had not seen him since and all three champions were lined up and ready to dive. Combeferre had been up before any of them and was nowhere to be found. None of them had seen him all day. They had not seen him at dinner either, and he wasn't there when Enjolras had stopped pacing and gone to bed. If he was not so preoccupied with the task, Grantaire would be questioning his whereabouts.

At the sound of the canon, Plimpy and Lizbet pulled out their wands while Enjolras shoved something in his mouth and jumped straight in. Close ups on the enchanted screens showed that whatever he had eaten had given him gills and webbed hands and feet.

"Gillyweed," Joly cried next to Grantaire. Lizbet also had gills and webbed feet, but she had used an advanced form of self-Transfiguration, far beyond Grantaire's capacity. Don't think about Lizbet. Plimpy had opted for a simpler solution and had cast the Bubble-Head charm on himself. And all three were off, diving deeper into the lake towards, whatever their task was.

Heavy breathing interrupted them. It was Jehan, his face almost as red as his hair, chest heaving from having run all the way from the greenhouses and holding something in his right hand.

"They've *pant* already gone in?" He asked desperately

"Yeah, you missed it. He... are you alright?" Because at that, Jehan had started crying. The thing clutched in his hand dropped to the floor with an unpleasant squelch. It was that plant that Enjolras had eaten before diving in. Gillyweed, Joly had called it.

"Are you alright?" Courfeyrac asked again.

"I was too late," was the only response Jehan would give,

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to save him,"

"Jehan, what are you talking about?" Courfeyrac’s voice was laced with fear,

"The Gillyweed. That lake is fresh water, but the book Enjolras used was giving directions for using Gillyweed in salt water,"

"What's the difference?"

"That much," was all Jehan said, pointing at the pile on the ground, "About fifteen minutes. Gillyweed wears off faster in fresh water. The amount he took will only last forty-five minutes, not the full hour." Grantaire felt his stomach fall away.

...

The singing was getting louder, he was getting close to the Mer-village. If he was right, then by following the singing he would find whatever was taken. He only had half an hour left so he would need to be quick. He pushed his way through the reeds and was there. He was swimming through the Mer-village.

They were hostages. Human hostages. Three people were tied to the statue in the centre of the town. Enjolras had come from behind so he could only see their backs. All of them had short hair. The one furthest left was dressed in all black with light brown hair. It was the only female of the group. The one in the middle had blonde hair and was still in its Beauxbatons school robes. He was sure that was his hostage. And the next one was... Grantaire?

...

"How long has he got left?" Marius asked for the fourth time in a hollow voice. They had done all they could, they had told Professor Valjean the risks but unless Enjolras actually started drowning then there was nothing they could do to stop the task. So they all had to wait. Courfeyrac was taking it the worst. His boyfriend was at the bottom of a lake and his best friend would start drowning in around fifteen minutes and he was helpless to fix either situation. He had already bitten his nails until they had started bleeding and Cosette had pulled his hand away from his mouth before he hurt himself. After that he had begun pacing, uncharacteristically snapping when people, like Marius, asked stupid questions. Marius was filled with nervous energy and was vocalising it. He and Courfeyrac, usually great friends, were starting to get on each other's nerves. Musichetta and Bossuet were acting as moral support for Joly as he informed the Hogwarts matron, Madam Pomfrey, about the situation. Éponine and Feuilly were pacing as well, which was also getting on Courfeyrac's nerves whenever they got in his path. Cosette and Bahorel had sat down and was staring transfixed at the screen showing Enjolras. He had reached the Mer-Village, maybe he would make it up in time. Gavroche and Jehan were both shredding paper now, the strips getting blown away by the harsh February wind. And Grantaire watched and prayed to a god he did not believe in that Enjolras would be alright. He was not moving. Just staring at Enjolras, also not moving, staring at the hostages. Why wasn't he moving?

...

Why was Grantaire down there? Why would they take him? And why was he not surprised? Because the black curls and tall frame was clearly Grantaire. Up until that moment if you had asked him who he would miss the most he would have answered Combeferre. Combeferre was his best friend, he had been since first year. They were inseparable and were there for each other no matter the situation. But seeing Grantaire down here with the other champion’s hostages, he knew that it would not have been true. He would have missed Grantaire more. Combeferre was his best friend, his brother, but Grantaire had come to mean... something more. Without realising it he had fallen in love with Grantaire over the course of the year. But he had a challenge to finish.

But when he got around the other side of the statue though, he was wrong. The furthest left was Emilia. Her hair was back to its normal colour after the ball and she was dressed in all black as usual. The one in the middle was Combeferre, his head lolling on his shoulders and his school robes from the day before still on. But then who was the curly haired one? From the front it clearly was not Grantaire. The nose was the wrong shape and the ears were too small. It was one of Plimpy's friends, Jake, he thought his name was. He was the one who gave him the nickname Plimpy. Not Grantaire then. He could not ignore his new feelings but for now he needed to get Combeferre to safety.

...

"How long?"

"Five minutes," none of them could do more than watch the screens now. The panic had given way to cold dread that had paralysed them. The teachers were standing by just incase but none of them were hopeful. The Mer-Village was too far away for summoning charms and jumping in would be ineffective. Onscreen, Enjolras was still okay. He had left the Mer-Village with Combeferre and was headed back to the shore. But he could not not make it. Not in five minutes. Their only hope was that he realised what was happening and swam upwards.

...

Enjolras' mind was still reeling. Grantaire. He had been expecting Grantaire. He had fallen in love with Grantaire. He could not tell when. He had not been in love with Grantaire before the tournament. He had been in love with Grantaire when he helped him figure out the egg. He had not been in love with Grantaire before the dragon challenge. He had been in love with Grantaire during their dance at the Yule Ball. He had fallen in love somewhere in December, too consumed by the egg to notice. The swirling thoughts were making him light headed. No, something else was making him light headed. The water in his mouth was too wet and his hands were no longer webbed. But it had not been an hour, the Gillyweed could not have worn off. But it had. The water was filling his lungs and he couldn’t breathe.

...

They all knew the moment when it happened. Not because they could see the gills disappear or his hands and feet return to their normal proportions, but because he let go of Combeferre. He would never let go of Combeferre unless something bad had happened. They all watched helplessly as Combeferre floated to the surface and Enjolras began kicking after him, trying in vain to reach the surface. His chest was spasming in a futile effort to stop breathing. The screens went dark as he lost the battle against his primal instinct to keep breathing and he inhaled a mouthful of water.

None of them could move. He was gone. Well, not yet. He would not have died yet, but he would before anyone could reach him. Soon, the cells in his brain would slowly start dying from lack of oxygen, helped by the water in his lungs damaging his internal organs. If he was lucky he was already unconscious and would not suffer anymore. If not he would still be conscious as his body killed him in its misguided attempt to keep itself alive, sucking in water again and again hoping it would find air.

None of them wanted to be the one to go in when Combeferre's head broke the surface of the lake and looked around expectantly, waiting for Enjolras to follow him up. Courfeyrac silently stripped down to his underwear and jumped in after him before any of the teachers could move. He was about 100 metres into the lake making his way towards Combeferre, who was still looking excited and only slightly perplexed when he spotted Courfeyrac and swam towards him.

They could all tell the exact moment when he found out. Courfeyrac had pulled him close so he could whisper it without all three schools seeing him. Combeferre’s entire body seized up and he would have sunk back under the water in shock if Courfeyrac had not been holding on to him. They made their way slowly back to shore in their joined grief.

...

They were almost to shore when another head broke the surface of the water. Everyone turned to look at it in the vain hope that in was Enjolras. But it was wearing glasses. It was Lizbet's hostage, Emilia. She too was looking around, confused. Lizbet had not come up either and all of the screens were dark so no one could tell what had happened to her. Two of her friends had begun stripping off as well in preparation to go retrieve her when two more heads broke the surface. One was Lizbet, her newly blue hair the same colour when wet as the lake, making it look as though the entire lake was pouring out of her head. The other head was limp and it lolled backward sickeningly, the blond curls plastered against it. Even if Combeferre and Courfeyrac had not begun swimming towards it, Grantaire would know that face anywhere. She had retrieved Enjolras' body.

...

Oh god, Lizbet had brought his body back. His best friend's body was floating in the middle of the lake. She was shouting something but his ears were ringing too loudly. Then she did something odd. She forcibly shoved his face back under the water. She was still shouting at them. What was she saying?

"Not dead yet. Gave him gills to keep him oxygenated. Need your help getting him to shore.” It was as though he had been hit by lightning. Alive? Could he really still be alive?

"Swim ahead," he said to Courfeyrac before grabbing Enjolras' other arm and pulling him in. He felt Courfeyrac swim away beside him but could not move to help. He was alive, Enjolras was still alive, for now.

...

"Someone should send an owl to his parents," they were all waiting outside the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to allow visitors. It was around nine at night but none of them had left since Enjolras had been bought in almost ten hours previous.

"I will," Combeferre volunteered, "We've been friends for years. They should hear it from someone that they're familiar with," but he never actually moved. None of the wanted to, just in case. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were clasping hands on the bench closest to the door. No one begrudged them that. They were his best friends, they deserved to be the first ones inside when Madame Pomfrey opened the door. Joly was sitting between Bossuet and Musichetta on the other side of the door. Both of them were more focused on Joly than the door. Joly was still shaking. Madam Pomfrey had left him in charge of first aid at the lake while she took Enjolras up to the Hospital Wing for better care. His only job had been to make sure that anyone who had been in the lake changed into dry robes and took some Pepper-Up potion but he had immediately repressed his personal feelings in favour of helping others. He would make an excellent healer. His emotions were all hitting him at that moment though. He was shaking and crying while Musichetta and Bossuet tried to reassure him. Jehan was wringing his hands, the entire Evening Prophet already in tiny pieces next to him and staring at the door. Éponine, on the other hand, was looking anywhere but the door. She was looking at the pictures on the walls, her friends, her feet, anywhere but the door. She did not even have it in her to be upset that Marius had his arm around Cosette, who was still crying quietly. Bahorel and Feuilly were escorting (forcing) Gavroche back to his dormitory. Second years were not allowed out of their common rooms after eight o'clock and if they let him go on his own he would just lurk out of sight, waiting like the rest of them. They were then going to make a Gryffindor prefect keep an eye on him until he went up to bed, hopefully he would fall asleep before the common room emptied and he could sneak back. Plimpy, Jake, Lizbet, and Emilia and a few of their friends had hung around but had gone back. No need to keep more people there than was necessary. Grantaire had walked away during the second hour of waiting and still had not come back. That was eight hours ago, but none of them wanted to disturb him without news.

...

It was midnight when Madam Pomfrey opened the doors. Only the Beauxbatons students were allowed to stay. The Durmstrang and Hogwarts students were personally escorted back to their dormitories by a teacher to ensure that they stayed there, but Valjean knew it was pointless to force the Beauxbatons to leave.

Grantaire had walked in at ten thirty with snow in his hair shivering like a leaf. He had later confessed that he couldn't just sit and wait so he walked along the border of the Forbidden forest until he hit one of the walls and then turned around. He did it several times before he was commanded inside. Madam Pomfrey had made him stay outside while she brought him dry robes and Pepper-Up.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac were the first ones in after she had opened the doors. She had not even finished saying "You may see him now," when they reached his bedside, Joly hurrying behind them. Grantaire entered slower, not sure he would like what he saw.

Enjolras had always been pale, but on that hospital bed in the harsh light of the lamps, he looked even paler. His blond hair was not helping matters, nor were the white robes Madam Pomfrey had found for him. There was no colour left in his cheeks or lips. No colour left anywhere. Enjolras looked like he had died in that lake and Grantaire was looking at his ghost. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were sitting on either side of the bed. They had each seized one of his hands and were rubbing them in their own, trying to bring some warmth back into them. He was not just as pale as a ghost, he was as cold as one too. Joly was sitting next to Combeferre with his head in his hands, not even looking at Enjolras. There was nothing he could really do, so Grantaire just sat down next to Courfeyrac and waited.

...

It was the snoring that woke up Enjolras, coming from somewhere near his hip. The next thing that he was aware of was the pressure on his hand. It was too tight, whoever it was was gripping too hard.

"Stoppit," he mumbled. The pressure on his hand did not lessen. On the contrary, it increased.

"Enjolras? Enjolras, can you hear me?" They were still gripping his hand and it was a wonder it had not broken with the strength of the grip.

"Stop it," he said again, "You're crushing my hand,"

"Oh, sorry. How do you feel?" It was Courfeyrac talking, but his voice was quieter and more sedated than usual. When Enjolras opened his eyes he saw that there where dark circles under his eyes. At his side, Grantaire was asleep in his chair with his head resting on the bed.

"My hand is sore," he replied,

"Aside from that," Courfeyrac sounded anxious but Enjolras did not understand why,

"Fine.” he replied slowly, “Why?" At that Courfeyrac hesitated,

"What do you remember about the task?" What did he remember?

"I was in the lake. I had retrieved Combeferre and was headed back to the surface. Then something went wrong. It all went dark and I couldn’t breathe. What happened Courf?"

"What happened” Courfeyrac began,” is that you're an idiot. You didn't read the instructions properly and ran out of time fifteen minutes early. You almost drowned. Would have too, if it wasn't for your girlfriend,"

"What?" Girlfriend?

"Lizbet found you just as you passed out. She saved you, pulled you up and out. After that Madam Pomfrey removed the water from your lungs and repaired the damage. But then your body temperature started going nuts. Madam Pomfrey was so busy saving your life that she couldn't warm you up or get you dry like the other champions. You were cold as ice. You had hypothermia for awhile there but one of her potions fixed you. It was,” Courfeyrac’s voice broke then and he returned to gripping Enjolras’ hand, “It was probably the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. We kept assuming that something had gone wrong and she wasn’t letting us in because you had died. God, Joly was out of his mind, and I’ve never seen Grantaire like that. He just sort of, shut down. You were out for nearly a day and we kept waiting for those doors to open and Madam Pomfrey to tell us that you had died.”

He felt awful. His friends had gone through that hell for nearly a whole day because he couldn’t read the instructions in a book. Courfeyrac brushed his offered apology aside, “It’s not as if you started drowning just to torture us.”

He knew that he would need to make it up them somehow, but there was an important question that he had to ask first, "Girlfriend?" What had Courfeyrac meant by girlfriend?

"Yes, Lizbet? Madam Pomfrey didn’t say anything about memory problems. Quick, how old are you?" Enjolras rolled his eyes but answered,

"I'm seventeen, but under no circumstances is Lizbet my girlfriend," at that Courfeyrac looked more confused.

"You're not dating the academically gifted girl that you took to the Yule Ball and saved your life?" Courfeyrac asked incredulously.

"No, why would you think that?" At that, Courfeyrac gave an audible snort,

"Enjolras,” he said slowly as though Enjolras was a child, “if you take a girl to a ball and dance with her all night, if you talk about her all the time and are in a life or death competition and she saves your life, people will think you're dating her,"

"But, we're just friends."

Before Courfeyrac could interrogate him any further, the Hospital Wing door opened and Combeferre walked in. He looked even worse than Courfeyrac had when Enjolras woke up. He was pale and the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than Enjolras had ever seen them, including during exam times. Knowing him, he had been so busy telling everyone else to eat that he had forgotten that he had probably not eaten since lunch the day before the second task. He did not see that Enjolras was awake, he was rubbing his hand over his face in exhaustion and talking to Courfeyrac, "Just sent the return owl, their portkey gets in at noon. Do you reckon they would mind if we sent Jehan down instead of going ourselves? I don't think any of us are up to that,"

"Who's coming?" he asked before Courfeyrac could tell Combeferre that he was awake.

Combeferre's reaction was almost comical. He stared at Enjolras with his eyes bulging out of his head before throwing dignity to the winds and pulling him into a bone crushing hug. The commotion was loud enough to wake Joly, who had been sleeping on the bed next to Enjolras. He to rushed over and gave him a slightly more gentle hug, but made up for it by whispering in his ear  
"Screw the stress ball, I am going to find a spell to turn you into a sheet of paper and giving you to Jehan," but before Enjolras could respond, the commotion, while not being enough to wake Grantaire who was still snoring at Enjolras’ hip, was enough to rouse Madam Pomfrey. She promptly bustled all of them out, including Grantaire who she placed on an enchanted stretcher, and forbade any of them from returning before noon.

"You all need rest," she squawked as she pushed them all towards the door, "You can come back and see him after rest. He'll be ready for visitors then," before finally closing the door on them.

It was another half hour before Madame Pomfrey let his other friends in. In that time she did every test she could think of to make sure his lungs had healed properly from the water damage. She repeatedly muttered to herself, asking what the Headmasters were thinking, letting children compete in the competition, all the while ignoring that they were legal adults. When she begrudgingly conceded that her potions had worked and he was in the same shape he was before he entered the lake she opened the door and his friends from Hogwarts and Durmstrang pushed in.

...

Jehan was the first to reach his bed. He threw his arms around Enjolras and squeezed him tightly. “Never do that again. None of our nerves can take it. Bahorel, Feuilly, Éponine, and Gavroche all took a turn to punch him in the arm when Madame Pomfrey was not looking. Éponine hit hard enough to leave bruises. Bossuet and Musichetta were both chewing him out on behalf of Joly. Joly was still under house arrest by Madame Pomfrey but he had covered two pages of parchment, front and back, with all of the things that he thought had gone wrong when Madame Pomfrey refused to let them into the Hospital Wing after the first hour. They also informed Enjolras that Joly had talked to Professor Mcgonagall about borrowing a copy of 'Advanced Human Transfiguration' to make good on his promise to let Jehan shred him. Even Marius and Cosette tried to be mad at him, which lasted for a while five seconds before they both burst out crying, glad that he was okay, and Cosette drew him into a hug.

...

Lizbet and Plimpy left their visits a little later, they both came in at eleven, after Jehan and Marius excused themselves to make it to Hogsmede in time for Enjolras’ parent’s portkey at twelve. Both of them were a bit more subdued in their well wishing than his friends, but he still received a hug and a punch from Lizbet, who laughed loudly when he told them that half of the schools thought they were dating.

"So you're, not?" Éponine asked, with more enthusiasm than Enjolras was prepared for. She was a nice girl, but not now, not with his newly discovered feelings for Grantaire. Not long after the conversation turned away from his and Lizbet's love lives he saw her steal silently out of the door and turn towards the Entrance Hall.

...

Despite Madam Pomfrey only placing his friends under house arrest until twelve, he did not see any of them until he was discharged after his parent’s visit, which lasted until well past three. He was under strict instructions get some rest (Madam Pomfrey's remedy for everything) which he was more than happy to obey, despite the fact that he had not gotten out of bed it had been a long day.

He had barely walked in the door to the carriage when he was met by a flurry of black hair that was even wilder than usual and another bruising hug. He had lost count of how many he had received that day. It must be a side effect of drowning. Before he could coordinate his limbs to hug Grantaire back, he was released. But again before he could do anything more than gasp in a few gulps of air after Grantaire had knocked the wind out of him, Grantaire was speaking twice as fast as normal.  
"I'm so sorry, I messed up, I should have been there when you woke up. I wanted to be. But then I fell asleep and then I woke up in the carriage and Combeferre was telling me that we were under house arrest and then your parents were there so no other visitors allowed and I'm the only one who hasn't seen you and..." but at that he was abruptly cut off.

Because Enjolras had decided something important as he walked down the lawn. Almost drowning made him re-evaluate his priorities and he had decided as he opened the door of the carriage that he was not going to be careful. He was going to tell Grantaire how he felt, but Grantaire was not going to let him have a word in so he had to take matters into his own hands. Before Grantaire could finish what he was saying, Enjolras had seized the front of his robes and forcibly drawn him into a heated kiss.

Enjolras ended the kiss and pulled away before Grantaire had realised what was happening. "I'm sorry," he apologised, "I should have asked first. But I realised something in that lake. I really like you, and that if I don't do something about it today, I may not be able to do it later. The latter part was reinforced by the drowning," he ended with a weak smile, as though trying to make things less awkward, because Grantaire was still looking like he had been hit in the face by a frying pan. "Please say something," he added after almost ten seconds of silence.

"Who are you and what have you done with Julien Enjolras," Grantaire said in a shaking voice. At this, Enjolras smiled,

"I am Enjolras, just one who has recently evaluated his priorities," and with that he drew Grantaire into a second, gentler kiss, giving him room to pull away. Grantaire did not. On the contrary, he placed his hands on Enjolras' hips and deepened the kiss.

They only stopped when a loud voice from behind Enjolras cried out "finally". They pulled apart almost sheepishly to see who had called out. Behind him all of their friends from Hogwarts and Durmstrang were standing at the entrance to the carriage, most were grinning, except for Éponine, who was scowling menacingly. Enjolras suddenly remembered her enthusiasm when she had found out that he was not dating Lizbet. Could she actually be interested in him? But his panic turned to sheer terror when she turned to him, still glaring and pulled out her wand. 'She's going to hex me' he thought. 'She's going to turn my kneecaps back-to-front or make me vomit slugs.' But his terror subsided when she pointed her wand behind him. Looking behind him Enjolras saw Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly enter the entrance room of the carriage. Éponine had in fact been pointing her wand at Joly. He suddenly went very pale.

"You said," she growled, "that you were one hundred percent certain that the second task would change nothing. You said that they were still a sure bet to not figure themselves out until after the third task. I'm not going to be able to afford a new quill now. I really need one too," to which he replied

"I was certain..." before dodging a well-aimed hex to his head. After he had taken shelter behind Bossuet and Musichetta, Éponine reached into her robes and drew out her money bag.

She turned to Combeferre and asked "How much do I owe?"

...

Neither Enjolras nor Grantaire managed to get a word in until Combeferre had pulled a sheet of paper out and calculated who had bet what in a complex betting system that only he understood on when and how Enjolras and Grantaire would express their true feelings, who made the first move and the outcome. Overall, Courfeyrac and Jehan won the most, both betting that it would happen within a fortnight of the second task and that Enjolras would make the first move. Courfeyrac won slightly more as he had also bet that Enjolras would just kiss Grantaire while Jehan thought that he would have written a long speech about it. Coming in last was Bossuet, who had bet that it would not happen until the last day at Hogwarts, Grantaire would make the first move and that Enjolras would need 'some time' but would eventually say yes to a relationship. Combeferre would have won even more than Courfeyrac but was not allowed to enter due to him running the betting pool.

...

"Watch it," Courfeyrac yelled as he dodged a jet of silver light emitted from Grantaire's wand. They were using an empty classroom to complete practical homework. Éponine and Courfeyrac were hunched over a cauldron arguing over whether they needed to add the powdered dragon horn or the matured oak leaves to their potion next. The English textbook said that the dragon horn went first, the French textbook said that the oak leaves went first. Joly, Jehan and Combeferre were pruning the Venomous Tentacula they were raising for Herbology. Jehan was distracting the tentacles while Combeferre and Joly were pruning them. Bahorel and Feuilly claimed that they were revising Defence Against the Dark Arts but were actually just using it as an excuse to have a loud duel that was being watched by Musichetta and Marius. Cosette was completing her Muggle Studies homework by interviewing Bossuet about Muggle culture and the influence of the Internet on popular entertainment. Bossuet was barely keeping up.

“You know more about this than I do Cosette,” he kept murmuring as she took detailed notes on different websites and how they were used.

Gavroche was not present. He and Molly, who was becoming an increasingly common appearance since the Yule Ball, were raiding the kitchens for "brain food". Grantaire was trying to master conjuring live creatures. They were starting small, trying to conjure invertebrates, but Grantaire was failing. The closest that he had come was making half a slug. Enjolras had already mastered it. His snails, because Enjolras had to make things harder on himself and was conjuring snails, were already in a tank. He had begun setting up his own cauldron when Grantaire's second errant spell hit his cauldron, turning it into a slug.

It was a testimony to how well their relationship was going that Enjolras refrained from either chewing Grantaire out for this as he would have done at the start of the year or turning Grantaire's textbook into a slug in retaliation as he would have two months ago. He instead turned the slug back into a cauldron and walked over to where Grantaire was standing like a scolded child. But before he could apologise, Enjolras walked up behind him and put his hands on Grantaire's. His hands burnt Grantaire's skin.

"You've got your grip all wrong," he said in French so that fewer of their friends could eavesdrop, "You need to hold it tighter so the wand movements are more accurate," god, Enjolras' face was only centimetres away from his, "The way you have it now the wand tip is all over the place," he said as he moved Grantaire's hands to better grip the wand. "Try again," he said after Grantaire's hands were in the right place. This time, when Grantaire waved his wand, a small colony of slugs materialised inside the tank alongside Enjolras' snails. "See," Enjolras said smugly, "it's all in the grip,"

"Or," Grantaire rebutted, "I just had a very good teacher." Their conversation was cut short by Éponine throwing a hex at both of them.

"Stop being disgustingly cute," she grumbled fondly, "some of us are still single and would quite like to finish their potions homework without listening to what might be a history of magic essay for all I know, but it sounds dead sexy because it's in French. So either you two can go back to your seperate homework or I can turn Enjolras into a frog and see how much you'd like to kiss him then,"

"I don't know, he'd probably make a cute frog..." was all Grantaire could say before Éponine waved her wand and in Enjolras' place was a small green frog.

"I'll turn him back into a prince," Éponine said smugly, "when you kiss him." The Enjolras-frog just blinked.

"I can't believe you actually kissed him," Courfeyrac exclaimed as they made their way back to the carriage after dinner, Enjolras still holding Grantaire's hand after he had pulled him up from the table, "I wouldn't have. Sorry Ferre," he said, shooting his boyfriend a quick grin.

"Well," Ferre said with an exasperated expression, "let's hope that Éponine never sees fit to transform me into a frog."

"I think," Grantaire whispered to Enjolras, "That in two months, we have developed a cuter relationship than those two did in two years."

...

He was sandwiched between Grantaire and Jehan at the Ravenclaw table having lunch on the twenty-fourth of May when Gavroche came up to him and announced "letter from the principal" in an imperious voice and tried to con a few sickles out of him.

"What's it say?" Grantaire asked when Enjolras disentangled their hands to read the letter.

"It's from Professor Dumbledore, I have to go down to the Quidditch pitch at seven thirty to find out about the third task,"

"What do you think it is?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put anything past the tournament organisers."

...

He met Lizbet and Plimpy in the entrance hall at quarter past seven and Plimpy showed them to the Quiditch pitch. If the indignation he expressed at the sight of the large hedges growing all over it were anything to go by, he was usually an avid Quidditch player. "As you can see," Mr Bagman said once they were all assembled at the centre of the pitch, "We are growing a maze. The cup will be placed in the centre and it is your job to be the first to find it. The first to find it wins,"

"That's it?" Lizbet asked confused, "Seems a little anticlimactic after dragons and Merpeople," Mr Bagman chuckled at that.

"Don't be so quick to judge my dear lady. We have an array of creatures and spells for you to beat along the way. My advice would be to brush up on hexes and jinxes for the upcoming task."

...

"Whoops, sorry Marius,"

"It's alright, but can you use Éponine this time? I have bruises all over my body,"

"I can't, she's better at hexes than you, I need her to teach me," he was again using an empty classroom to practice spells that would help him in the Maze. Éponine was teaching him new hexes and jinxes, some of which were of her own invention. She and Marius were only in sixth year and did not need to study for their exams in the same way as his other friends, who were about to take their final exams. He would take his over the summer like Lizbet so they could have more time to revise. Plimpy was only a sixth year and so was omitted from exams all together. His friends would help when they could but exams took priority. Marius was still coming to terms with Cosette having to prioritise her exams over their relationship. He had begun hanging out with Éponine a lot more these days.

"Okay," Éponine said, "I think we can move onto disillusionment charms. They could be very useful if you are facing a difficult creature and will give Marius a break," They had just finished impediment jinxes, which were not fun for Marius. They were using one of the larger classrooms and the rest of their friends were studying for their own exams. Combeferre was testing Joly and Jehan on Herbology using samples from the Greenhouses.

Courfeyrac and Feuilly both had their cauldrons out and were practicing for their potions practical. Courfeyrac's potion was light green which was causing him a great deal of distress. "It should be darker, it should be darker," he kept muttering as he tried to remedy it by adding more crushed Doxy eggs. Feuilly's was darker, but he still was not happy, he was convinced that it was too thick.

Cosette was tutoring Grantaire and Bossuet in Transfiguration, explaining the theory of conjuration. "When conjuring vertebrates it is important to..." she lectured while both boys were hastily scribbling on sheets of parchment trying to keep up. Musichetta was revising the Patronus theory for extra credit for her charms exam. Bahorel was sleeping using his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook as a pillow. Gavroche was revising freezing charms. In half an hour, Éponine and Marius would begin their own study at Enjolras' insistence that they not neglect their exams for him. Everyone except Enjolras was certain that he would win. But he would see.

...

June the twenty-fourth fell on the last day of exams for both N.E.W.T and regular students. Marius and Éponine had Charms practical after lunch and N.E.W.T Potions were at 10am. He had assumed that he would study theory until one, when Potions ended, then he would coerce his friends into duelling with him until dinner. His plans for the day were changed when Grantaire grabbed his hand upon entry to The Great Hall and began pulling him past the tables, only answering his questions as to where they were going with an evasive "You'll see," and pulling him into the chamber behind the hall where they had received their first instructions for the tournament.

The surprise was waiting for him in the chamber. His parents were standing by the fire trying to hold a conversation with Mr and Mrs O'Donnell in their limited English while Lizbet's parents were not even trying to follow, clearly not knowing what was going on. His parents seemed quite relieved at his entrance, as Mrs O'Donnell had begun talking about her job which was clearly above his parent’s English abilities. "Julien," his mother said enthusiastically when she saw him "It's good to see you," and then adding in French "What is she saying? I don't have a clue what she's talking about."

...

It was not the day he planned, but it was a good day. His parents were fascinated by Hogwarts, "and there are really Merpeople in the lake?"

"Yes, I've met them," and insisted on meeting his new friends. But the best part of his day came after he had been called to the pitch. All of his friends wished him luck, Jehan even kissed him of each cheek with a quick apology to Grantaire. But Grantaire stood up and pulled him into a deep kiss for the whole hall to see. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lizbet and Emilia doing the same thing at the Slytherin table. What did it matter now what Karkaroff thought? Emilia had already finished her exams and Lizbet was taking hers externally, Karkaroff had no power over them anymore. Even Helen stood up and kissed Plimpy quickly. The hall had erupted into cheers for the couples.

...

"On your marks, get set, go," and with that, Lizbet took off at a full sprint into the maze, her red tracksuit almost luminous in the twilight. As the champion with the most points, she was given a head start. Plimpy was next with the second highest number of points. Enjolras was last, his inability to complete the second task had set him back far enough that alongside spells and jinxes, he had also begun running laps of the lake boost endurance to make up for lost ground. "On your marks, get set, go," and Plimpy was off too. His tracksuit was yellow, also almost luminous in the darkening maze. It was just Enjolras now. He was already in position to move the moment Bagman called out "go". He had a lot of ground to make up.

...

Grantaire watched with pride and fear as Enjolras ran into the maze. The enchanted screens were back, the cold dread of the second task was not. That time all of their friends were bright and happy, convinced that their lessons had prepared Enjolras for the task and too happy about the end of exams to be seriously worried. Courfeyrac was curled against Combeferre's chest and was absentmindedly doodling on his Potions notes as he no longer needed them. Joly and Bossuet both had their heads in Musichetta's lap, the happy trio enjoying their last month together before Joly and Musichetta went back to their home countries. There were plans to meet up over the holidays but none of them knew what the future would hold so they were all making the most of the time they had. Marius and Cosette were also curled up together and watching Enjolras without the fear of the other two tasks. Bahorel and Feuilly where 'chaperoning' (spying on) Gavroche, who was sitting with Molly and her friends instead of with them. Jehan and Éponine were playing exploding snap as quietly as possible given the regular explosions. Then Cosette gasped loudly, Enjolras had reached his first obstacle.

...

The troll was huge. Too large to be a forest or water troll, this had to be a mountain troll. It had club as long as his body in its right hand and was scratching its bald, grey head with its left. He had one advantage though, it had not seen him yet, and if he was smart it never would. He tapped his wand on his head and grimaced at the cold, wet feeling running down his spine. The troll was none the wiser when Enjolras reached the opposite end of the corridor. 'This could be useful,' he thought to himself, 'If they can't see me, they don't know to kill me.'

The disillusionment charm had proven useful in avoiding a giant spider, a hydra and a large grey shelled creature that he had never seen before but had heard Grantaire describe in great detail from his Care of Magical Creatures classes. They were called 'Blast-Ended Screwts' and they were a year-long project of the Hogwarts fourth years. 'If a fourth year can take care of that thing,' he thought as one end started shooting fire, 'Then they could probably take on the obstacles in the tournament with ease.'

As useful as the disillusionment charm was against the creatures in the maze, it was useless against enchantments as he discovered when he found a dark cloud blocking his way. His wand said that the centre of the maze was straight down the path but the path was blocked by the enchantment. The last fork in the path he had seen was too far away to double back so, barely slowing his pace, he ran headfirst into the cloud.

As soon as he felt the dark mist wrap around him he was hit by a wave of cold. It was almost liquid in the way it pushed into every crevice in his body. It was in his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Every breath was pure ice, he could not breathe. He was drowning again, not in a lake but in an enchanted fog. And this time, there was no Lizbet to save him. Black spots were dancing across his eyes and the mist seemed to have entered his head making his thoughts as foggy as his surroundings. He was on the verge of pulling out his wand and shooting out sparks to save himself before he passed out when Grantaire’s face swam before his eyes. Grantaire, who had complete faith in him. Grantaire, who would probably be watching him with fear. He couldn’t give up, for Grantaire’s sake. He took one step, then a second, then a third, and he kept going until he felt air rush in to his empty lungs. He had made it to the other side. All he wanted to do was send up sparks and be rescued. He could go back to the carriage and Grantaire could hold him until the terrible, lingering cold was gone. But he had come this far.

When he turned the corner he saw her. Lizbet was walking along the path about ten metres ahead of his with her wand out. He had two advantages though. The first was that her back was to him and the second was that the disillusionment charm was still in place, she could not have seen him even if she was looking. But he could not have moved past her without her noticing. And if she noticed him, she would attack. The three of them had agreed no holding back in the task. So he did not hold back. Before she could get much further he pulled his wand on her and said calmly "Petrificus Totalus" and she went rigid and fell backwards.

When he walked past her she glared at him as furiously as she could without the ability to move her facial muscles. "I'm going to send up sparks so they come and collect you," he said in response, she kept glaring, "Fine, next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, I'll buy you a butterbeer," her glare lessened but did not disappear, “and as many chocolate frogs as you want?” She stopped glaring and let him send up the sparks.

...

His heart was beating in his ears and his breath tore at his lungs. It was there, the Triwizard cup, the cup that he had been fighting for over the course of the entire year, was right in front of him. Its blue glow illuminated the path in front of him. But the ragged breath behind him meant that he could not focus on anything except putting one foot in front of the other. Plimpy was right behind him in a final race for the cup. Both boys were sprinting, trying desperately to be the first one to reach the cup first. He was too fast for Plimpy, his hands closed around the handle of the cup. He had won. He felt a familiar tug just behind his navel as the world around him disappeared.

...

When Enjolras disappeared from the screen Grantaire's eyes immediately turned to the patch of clear grass spared from the maze where the champions had entered the maze. Maybe the teachers wanted one final show. But as one second turned into ten he began rapidly losing hope that Enjolras would rematerialise. Then he heard Courfeyrac gasp next to him and he looked up. Everyone else's eyes were still trained on the screen, which was no longer showing a confused Plimpy. It now showed Enjolras standing alone on an empty hilltop so far from Hogwarts that even the surrounding mountains were out of sight. Grantaire could not even confidently say that it was in Britain. Enjolras' wand was still illuminated and the light was casting a glow on a large stone that was inscribed with a message.

Welcome worthy champion  
This is a final challenge for the sole victor to prove their worth. If you cannot complete this final task then your fellows will be given another chance to win.  
The portkey that brought you here has been magically disabled so you cannot reuse it and it is impossible to apparate into the Hogwarts grounds. These enchantments have been extended to Hogsmeade village and any surrounding countryside you may have seen during your stay. You have two hours to make it back to the school or you must forfeit your title.  
Best of luck.  
His challenge was not over.

He had 1 hour and 59 minutes to get to Hogwarts before he failed the final task after he apparated into the small town visible from the hilltop. Having no idea how to get back or even what part of the country he was in, he walked into the only lit building in the square, the town hall. The elderly muggle lady at the desk was clearly unused to being asked what part of the country they were in by French boys in powder blue tracksuits and quickly told him that they were in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Wales. So, he had to get to the other end of the country in just under two hours and he could not apparate. Brilliant, just brilliant.

...

By the time he had gotten back to the hilltop, he had 1 hour and 56 minutes left. There was no reason to go back to the hilltop, but he did not have a better plan. How was he going to get back to Hogwarts? He was about to give up when he remembered a conversation from one of their unused classroom discussions after the exam and tournament work had been put away and the all just acted like teenagers, discussing each other's lives, school, whatever came to mind. It would be what he missed the most after the tournament finished and he returned to France. It had been a Thursday afternoon. Courfeyrac had fallen asleep on Combeferre's lap, who was petting his hair distractedly while talking to Joly about the hospitals they could intern at after exams. Joly was considering applying at St. Mungo's to be closer to Bossuet. Said boyfriend was curled into Joly and Musichetta so none of them could tell whose leg was whose. Cosette and Marius had fallen asleep together and Éponine and Gavroche were drawing moustaches and glasses on their faces. But the part of the conversation he remembered was his, Jehan's and Feuilly's. Jehan had been asking them if they always used the carriage and the ship to get to school. When they said that they did, Jehan had explained how Hogwarts students got to school. With that he developed a crazy plan that just might work. He just had to remember the details from the photo Jehan had shown him from his first day of school.

...

When Enjolras disapparated for the third time, it took longer for him to reappear. When he did, from what Grantaire could see, he was in a dimly lit brick building. The screens showed a dark train station with tracks that lead to a brick wall one way and into the night the other. Next to him, Jehan laughed and Marius gasped. As Grantaire watched Enjolras took a deep breath as though to steady himself. Then, he disapparated reforming further along the track. And then, before he had fully reformed, he disapparated again, appearing further along again. And then he did it again and again, reforming just enough to see further down the track before disapparating as far as he could. The audience watched in amazement, the oldest students, the ones who had apparated before, flinched with each loud 'crack' as they imagined disapparating again and again, slowly making their way along the track.

...

Enjolras had lost track of time. All he could focus on was reforming slightly, taking a single breath to replace the one that had just been forced out of his lungs, and looking as far as he could and apparating to the furthest point he saw. Look, breath, picture the location, 'crack'. Look, breath, picture the location, 'crack'. Look, breath, picture the location, 'bam'. With the force of a canon, he was thrown backwards from where he had tried to apparate to. Look, breath, picture the location, 'bam'. Again he was thrown backwards. He had reached the border of the enchantments. In the distance were bright lights, Hogsmeade, and beyond that, "Hogwarts," he breathed. He was almost done. His watch said that he had 15 minutes left. He had been constantly apparating for 1 hour and 41 minutes. Every bone in his body ached and he wanted nothing more than to lie down with his head in Grantaire's lap for two straight weeks, but that would have to wait. He had to get to the castle.

...

Enjolras made it back to the field with two minutes to spare. Grantaire watched as he stopped apparating and began running. He watched as he tore through Hogsmeade and began climbing the hill to Hogwarts. He watched as he pushed open the gates and turned away from the screens with the rest of the school to watch Enjolras sprint across the field, exhausted but grinning ear to ear. He watched as Dumbledore and Valjean presented Enjolras with the real Triwizard cup and clapped the loudest as he raised it into the air and was subsequently lead away by Madam Pomfrey to make sure he had not left any of his internal organs in Wales.

It took him ten minutes to convince Madam Pomfrey that he was in possession of all of his internal organs and another five to convince her that everything else was fine too. After that, Combeferre and Courfeyrac arrived to escort (force) him to the carriage, where Marius and Bossuet had stockpiled food from the kitchens and Gavroche had stockpiled sweets directly from Honeydukes cellar, and insisted that he stay up all night with them celebrating. He snuck off halfway through and crawled into bed. As much as he loved his friends, they were rather overzealous and had forgotten that he had been apparating non-stop for almost two hours.

...

Right as he began drifting off, the bed dipped next to him and long, thin fingers carded through his hair, "Hello R," he said sleepily, relaxing into the touch.

"You know Apollo," Grantaire responded, continuing his stroking of Enjolras' hair, "our friends might be very offended that you left in the middle of your own party, I could run out and tell them exactly what you have done,”

“Or?” asked Enjolras, sensing an alternative,

“Or, you could move over and we could both take a nap.”

“That sounds nice,” he said sleepily, eyes already fluttering shut as Grantaire slung his arms around Enjolras’ waist. He felt Grantaire press a kiss behind his ear before he fell asleep.

...

When Grantaire woke up, Enjolras was still in his arms, snoring slightly. But he could hear the sounds of other people sleeping in the same room as well. He sat up as gently as he could without waking Enjolras and looked around. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were sleeping in Combeferre’s bed while Cosette and Marius were sleeping in Courfeyrac’s. Musichetta and Bossuet were sleeping alongside Joly in his bed. Éponine and Gavroche had claimed Grantaire’s bed and Bahorel, Feuilly, and Jehan had somehow conjured or summoned three camp beds and were each sleeping on one. No one else was awake yet, so he figured no one would mind if he pressed a soft kiss to Enjolras’ cheek and fell back asleep.

...

“No really Grantaire you don’t need to...”

“Ow, Bossuet, get your trunk off my foot...”

“Let me ‘Ferre...”

Their last day at Hogwarts was chaos. There were trunks piled everywhere and everyone had somewhere different to be. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were already packed and were trying to help the Hogwarts students to varying success.

“Promise you’ll write, all of you,” Jehan made them all swear before they were pulled apart as the horseless carriages rolled away and the ship and the Beauxbatons carriage carried their students home.

As they watched the Hogwarts grounds grow smaller from one of the windows, Grantaire felt Enjolras shift in his seat to face him. “So,” he asked Grantaire, too quietly for anyone to hear, “did the year at Hogwarts live up to your expectations?” He pressed a chaste kiss to Enjolras’ lips before answering.

“No, it surpassed all of them.”


End file.
